The first home that Neville was supposed to know was blown up two days before he was set to come into the world. New parents are always excited about the first child, and Alice and Frank Longbottom weren't the exception. The rooms had been selectively painted with bright Hogwarts House colors, multiple cradles were set in every room, stuffed animals fairly dominated every piece of space, and plans were made for every possibility and accident. Except the one that occurred.
But Alice and Frank weren't deterred (although they were fairly shaken), and two hours after the birth certificate had been signed, a house in a remote location had been bought under an alias, Frank was named the Secret Keeper, and they were fairly rushing out of St. Mungo's, which was a daily occurrence to the Healers as the hospital was always under danger of attack.
And so it was. Two parents and a newborn rushed into a home with cold white washed walls and empty rooms that were barely took up with the few storage boxes salvaged still smelling of acrid smoke, at least twenty miles away from any wizarding company.
Babies were supposed to sleep in cradles in rooms filled with soft light, but Neville spent his in a hammock with multiple safety and supporting charms and a room with walls charmed to possess Gryffindor hangings. It was the best anyone could have done, and while it was a bit plain(and not very safe), both Alice and Frank would agree that it felt like home, and why not make the first night a memorable one?
One night grew into two, and Neville learned his first steps and words in the hammock, never once letting it go.
But good things never last, and a year later, and Neville had to be cajoled into letting it go when it was time to move once again to a home with a grandmother and no parents.
And the hammock with Gryffindor hangings became nothing more than a childhood fantasy and a dim memory covered with dust.
16 years later...
Neville hated running. The only thing he hated more was running away. Running away meant you were running away from something, and whenever you turned around to check for your pursuers, you could almost feel their breathe on the back of you neck, which only served to burn your legs more and cause the adrenaline to pump faster.
But where could he run?
The DA's room...The Room of Requirement
Panting even more, he sharply turned a corner onto the third floor and concentrated.
I need...a room...
a room...where...
no one who supports the Carrows can find me...
and a home...
Come on!
Wasting precious seconds passing the blank wall three times to find the room, a door finally appeared.
Almost laughing with relief, Neville flung it opened and all but threw himself behind it, closing it.
Thank Merlin.
Nursing an old cut on his arm that was starting to bleed, he inspected the room.
It was cramped, and could almost pass for a large broom closet. A hammock swung from the walls which were in turn bedecked with Gryffindor hangings. It wasn't much, but it was home.
It also looked vaguely familiar.
It probably didn't matter.
A/N:
Written for Hogwarts School of Challenges and Assignments
Assignment 2:
Geography: Task 12: Write about someone/a group of people who is/are isolated. Alt: Write about someone who ages differently or who doesn't age
Word Count: 543